time for a soppy reflection post
around 3-4 years ago I was in the marianas trench of my own head, deeply suicidal and constantly fighting for my own survival against myself. It sucked major dick. I could only feel anything by cutting myself, I didn’t know who I was or who I liked, I despised my physical body for a plethora of reasons and I couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. It’s hard to make it out of the tunnel when you don’t know how long it is.
I was certain I wouldn’t reach my 18th birthday
If I could go back and talk to my prepubescent self, I would hug them and tell them “the next few years are gonna be hell on earth. I cannot express how much I wish this will never happen to you but it will. But IT WILL GET BETTER”
And it has.
I’m 18 now, an incomprehensible, ridiculous age that I never anticipated or prepared for. If I had given up, if I had had the resolve to go through with my own suicide, I would’ve regretted it, beyond anything else I’ve ever wished I could change. But I’m still here. I have wonderful friends who put up with my best and worst days. I’m studying my favourite subjects at school and desperately want to go to Edinburgh uni next year, the furthest in advance I’ve planned in a long time. I’ve learnt that I and My Body are one and the same and I should treat myself better. The lows are gentler and the highs are exquisite. Mental illness turned me into a version of myself that needed all the help in the world and received crumbs. But I’m still here. Not a week after my 18th, my favourite band reunited, whom I had only discovered after they broke up, a sure sign I had made the right choice. I’m making, creating, failing, learning, laughing, crying, hoping, working, resting, living in a technicolour world of emotions I haven’t felt for a long time.
I cannot even comprehend the bravery I have had in the past. And I can’t wait to find new courage in my future. I’m still here, and that’s the best damn thing I’ve ever done. Bring on 2020